


All the Fire Inside Your Smile

by konekat



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Getting Together, KyouHaba - Freeform, M/M, Yahaba and Kyoutani as third years, it's just fluff, really gruff fluff ahahaha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 10:30:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11849715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/konekat/pseuds/konekat
Summary: Ignoring the murmuring first years, Kyoutani clenches his hands at his sides.  “We need to talk,” he manages to say, struggling not to bunch his shoulders up.“Oh?” Yahaba asks, looking a bit surprised.  “Sure, what is it?”Kyoutani grunts, glancing around the half-full gym.  “Not here.  I… need to tell you something.”“You’re so weird,” Yahaba says with a laugh and a wry smile.





	All the Fire Inside Your Smile

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kusokawa (lone_wolf_moon)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lone_wolf_moon/gifts).



> This fic is for the absolutely stunning [hailsousuke](http://hailsousuke.tumblr.com/), who I had the great pleasure to meet at Anime North this year and who has become an absolutely amazing friend <3 I hope that you had a lovely birthday, Raquel! Sorry that I couldn’t get this out on the actual day, but I hope that your lovely little kyouhaba heart gets as much enjoyment from reading this as I did from writing it ;w;

Practice is over. 

Kyoutani glances across the gym, trying to make up his mind. 

There’s only two weeks left until Spring Interhigh. If he’s going to do it, it should probably be now. Because Kyoutani refuses to lie to himself: he knows that if he waits until after Interhigh, there is zero chance he’s going to come clean.

Yahaba is directing the first years to roll the ball carts away into the storage room, but otherwise the gym is pretty much cleaned up. 

Kyoutani takes a deep breath, then stomps over to their captain before he loses his resolve. 

“Shigeru.”

“Hey Ken,” Yahaba says, glancing his way. “Is the net put away?”

Kyoutani grunts an affirmative, but Yahaba raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Like, _actually_ put away?” Yahaba presses. “In the right place?”

“ _Yes_ , captain,” Kyoutani grunts, rolling his eyes. The title slides out oiled in sarcasm, and a few of the first years give him the usual flurry of half-horrified, half-admiring looks. 

He knows he’s the only one who gets away with this level of insolence. Yahaba may not tolerate Kyoutani slacking in practice (to be honest, he comes down far harder on Kyoutani than any of the other members, even the other third years), but there are other allowances that Yahaba makes for Kyoutani. 

They both know that the sarcasm doesn’t diminish Kyoutani’s respect for Yahaba’s leadership. If anything, the fact that he calls him captain at all is proof of that.

Ignoring the murmuring first years, Kyoutani clenches his hands at his sides. “We need to talk,” he manages to say, struggling not to bunch his shoulders up. 

“Oh?” Yahaba asks, looking a bit surprised. “Sure, what is it?”

Kyoutani grunts, glancing around the half-full gym. “Not here. I… need to tell you something.” 

“You’re so weird,” Yahaba says with a laugh and a wry smile. But he’s already turning to wave at Watari. “I’ll be back in a bit, okay?”

Watari, for some reason, has a highly amused smile on his face as he replies, “Sure.”

The libero’s expression leaves Kyoutani feeling highly uneasy. He glances around, only to see Kunimi pinning him with a bored, all-too-knowing look. Insufferable bastard. Kyoutani flips him off, then grunts, “C’mon.”

He doesn’t wait for Yahaba before stomping out of the gym. Not that he needs to—he knows Yahaba will follow. 

Kyoutani marches them back into the school and down one hallway, then another, until he’s sure that they’re alone. Then, finally, he turns to face Yahaba.

The little shit is watching him with a little grin, and y’know what? Fuck him. Those stupid little smiles have been the problem all along. 

Still smiling, Yahaba shrugs his shoulders and asks, “So… what’d you want to tell me?”

Kyoutani takes a deep breath. Glances away from that too-powerful grin. Forces his gaze back toward Yahaba’s eyes, then blurts out, “I like you.”

There’s a fleeting moment where Yahaba doesn’t quite react, the weight of the words still taking root. Kyoutani watches him closely, bracing himself.

He’s has never been one to overanalyze things. Either something works, or it doesn’t, and that’s that. 

This, however, is one really big exception. 

Kyoutani’s not quite sure how Yahaba will respond, but he’s expecting one of several options. None of them are particularly great. 

He’s mostly figuring that Yahaba will be flustered, let him down easy, and explain that he just sees him as a friend. It’s also possible that he’ll just be completely weirded out and tell Kyoutani in no uncertain terms that he’s not interested. Kyoutani had even briefly considered whether the aftermath of whatever Yahaba’s answer will be might impact the team—although, honestly, Yahaba is a good captain. He won’t let something like this get in the way of taking on the spring tournament. 

What he’s _not_ expecting is for Yahaba to giggle.

Kyoutani freezes, a crippling chill inching through his chest.

“I’m sorry,” Yahaba says, shaking his head. Although he doesn’t _sound_ very sorry—he’s still giggling. Yahaba shrugs, throwing Kyoutani a wry, somewhat shaky grin. “Did you really think you were being subtle?”

There’s a heat creeping up Kyoutani’s neck, itching at his face, burning the cold feeling away and leaving only a rising, churning anger in its wake. 

_What the fuck_?

Okay, yeah. Kyoutani had known things would probably backfire. But, like… Yahaba knew? He was being _that obvious_? And if Yahaba had noticed, then surely the rest of the team must have too… Shit, Watari’s little smirk... That asshole Kunimi… _Fuck_.

And that’s _nothing_ compared to the fact that Yahaba is _laughing_. Kyoutani finally just straight up owns up to these stupid-ass feelings that he’s honestly not all that thrilled to have in the first place, and Yahaba is _laughing_? _At him_? 

The anger flares, slowing burning at the edges of Kyoutani’s vision, forcing the world into an ever narrower funnel. Because _shit_. This _asshole_. Kyoutani had thought—he had assumed— _he thought he knew Yahaba better than this_. 

He’s honestly not even all that mad at Yahaba—not any more than he is at any of his other asshole teammates. 

But he’s _pissed_ with himself. Because, _shit_ , Kyoutani should have _known_. He had completely misjudged this little fucker. Should have listened to his first gut instinct: that this little goody-two-shoes prick was too good to be bothered with anyone, least of all him. How could Kyoutani have let himself think that Yahaba was better than that? That he would be understanding, at least?

Worst of all is that there’s still a tiny, unbreakable voice in the very depths of Kyoutani’s chest that is flatly denying all of these venomous accusations. Because the fact of the matter is that Kyoutani _knows_ that his original opinion of Yahaba was wrong. Yahaba is way more than Kyoutani had originally given him credit for. An amazing leader. An asshole who runs his team into the ground. Who brings out the best in them. Inspires them. Inspires _Kyoutani_. Who _still_ looks like a beautiful, burning beacon of happiness even as Kyoutani’s world falls to ashes around him. 

He’s bright red—he knows he is. With a pained, sour grunt, Kyoutani turns and spits, “... fine. Just wanted to make sure you knew.” Then, biting back the million acid insults coiling on his tongue, Kyoutani adds, “Sorry to _bother_ you.”

He’s only made it two steps when Yahaba’s hand wraps around his wrist. Kyoutani moves to rip his arm out of Yahaba’s grip, but Yahaba says, “Ken, wait.”

The laughter is gone now. It’s replaced with a fond, exasperated tone that is a dizzyingly disorienting 180 in tone.

Thing thing is, Kyoutani doesn’t _want_ to wait. He wants to just _get the fuck out of here_. But the sad fact of the matter is that, even now, Kyoutani is utterly incapable of resisting Yahaba. Furious with himself, Kyoutani relaxes a fraction—just enough to stop his forward momentum and growl, “ _What_.”

Yahaba’s hand tightens on Kyoutani’s wrist, and for the first time Kyoutani realizes that his hand is shaking slightly. 

“Listen… I’m sorry,” Yahaba says quietly. “I didn’t mean to laugh, but just…”

He trails off, and—hating himself even as he does—Kyoutani turns just enough to watch Yahaba. His face is furrowed with the most complex expression Kyoutani has ever witnessed: half an exasperate frown, half an amused smile, wholly suffused with a good dose of confusion. 

His hand is still trembling ever so slightly.

Yahaba shrugs a bit awkwardly. “I figured that you already knew that I knew?” he says, more a question than anything. “I mean, you were being kind of obvious—”

“That’s great,” Kyoutani says flatly. His glare deepens. “Can you _let me go now_?”

Yahaba pouts. _Pouts_. And Kyoutani is one sad, weak motherfucker. Because his heart actually jolts at the stupidly adorable expression. This goddamn _fucker_. 

“Listen, you thick dumbass,” Yahaba says insistently. “I”m trying to tell you something important.” 

He trails off. Kyoutani raises his eyebrows impatiently, and Yahaba’s fingers twitch against his wrist. 

“Look, what I’m trying to say is that.. I had just assumed you knew how obvious you were being,” Yahaba explains. Kyoutani very much does not appreciate the sentiment, but Yahaba pushes on before he can interrupt. “And, I mean, I thought that you had realized that…”

Yahaba fumbles over the words for a moment. But then, straightening his back, he looks Kyoutani dead in the eye. 

“Jeez, you idiot. I spend almost every day together with you after school, and we spend most practices together, and I run you harder than anyone on the team even though you’re obviously the best player, and I talk with you more than I talk with any of the other teammates combined, even Watari who is, like, one of my best friends, and just—”

Suddenly, he kicks Kyoutani in the shin, a petulant pout twisting his lips. Kyoutani flinches—the kick isn’t anywhere near hard enough to hurt, but it definitely takes him off guard. He looks down at his leg, then back up at Yahaba in disbelief, not at _all_ following what on _Earth_ the idiot is trying to explain. 

Yahaba glares at him. “I like you too, you dumbass,” he declares.

Kyoutani can feel his lips part in shock, a confused frown weighing down his face. 

Yahaba shrugs and looks away, refusing to meet his eyes as he adds, “I thought you already knew. Figure it out already.”

Listen, there are many things that Kyoutani has a hard time understanding. Like stupid fucking _literature_. Or fucking geometry—who the fuck gives a shit about sine or cosine or asinine or whatever? 

But this? This takes the cake. Because all Kyoutani is suddenly able to do is gape at Yahaba, who _still_ isn’t fucking _meeting his eyes_. 

Kyoutani’s face is still beet red, and growing even brighter at an alarming rate. His throat suddenly feels uncomfortably tight. His hands twitch up, out of Yahaba’s grip, only to wave about uselessly. 

When his voice _finally_ decides to show the fuck up, all he can manage to splutter is, “What kind of—how the fuck was I supposed to— _YOU SHOULD HAVE JUST SAID SOMETHING_!!!”

Yahaba crosses his arms, finally looking back up at Kyoutani with a half-glare, half-pout. “ _You_ didn’t!” he accuses.

Kyoutani bites off a snarl, waving his arms even more uselessly as his words back up again—god _dammit_. 

“I just… Fucking! _Did_!!!” he manages to growl, not quite sure if he’s fucking _pissed_ or flying so high that he’s over the freaking _moon_. 

It’s kind of a bit of both.

Yahaba tosses his head dismissively. “Okay, but what’s the good of _that_ when I’ve kind of figured for, like, _months_?”

Shit. _Shit_. The guy has known for _months_ and was just? Okay with it? Apparently felt the _same fucking way_? And was too much of a prissy, panties-in-a-twist _asshole_ to even bother to tell him!? _Fuck_ , why is Kyoutani so far gone for this amazing, stupid jackass?

It’s just… too much. For Kyoutani to handle. At least in any sort of reasonable way. So, with a growl, he turns on his heel and grumbles, “ _Whatever_ ,” as he stalks back down the hallway. 

He stops for half a second as he passes a rather worried looking Yahaba, grabs his hand, and grunts, “C’mon, you pissy little pretty boy.”

And the guy _fucking smiles_. Like being called a pissy little pretty boy is supposed to be a _compliment_ or something. But he allows himself to be dragged, his hand surprisingly cool in Kyoutani’s flaming, sweaty palm. 

Kyoutani continues to grumble as he leads them back down the hall, cheeks blazing, half frustrated and half dying of a fucking _heart attack_. He’s fallen for an asshole, and that asshole likes him back. Why is he so stupid? Why is he so happy? How on Earth did he get so fucking lucky? Or cursed. Both really, to be honest.

He shoots a glare at Yahaba suddenly and says, “What’d’ya hafta go and _laugh_ at me for?”

Yahaba takes a large enough step to come up right beside Kyoutani, only to bump into his side. Kyoutani frowns down at him, but Yahaba actually looks apologetic. 

“Sorry,” he says, biting his lip. “It’s just a nervous habit, y’know? I can’t really stop it.”

Kyoutani watches his for a moment, assessing him with a frown. “Liar,” he says finally.

Yahaba’s gaze jerks over to him, mouth ready and open with an argument. But Kyoutani cuts him off and says, “You’re never nervous. You could stare down a fucking snake and win, you little weasel.”

Yahaba rolls his eyes, but there’s a grin inching along his lips. “Is that supposed to be a compliment or something?” he asks. “Because it kind of sucked.”

“Well _apparently_ I suck at _communicating_ or something,” Kyoutani growls, squeezing Yahaba’s hand. “So you’re just gonna hafta deal with it.”

Yahaba laughs again, and this time the sound is a relief, dancing down the hallway and making Kyoutani’s heart skip. “Yeah, yeah, I know what I’ve signed up for,” Yahaba says dismissively. Then, with a little grin, he adds, “Worth it.” 

Jesus _fuck_. That overwhelming heat rears up yet again, attacking Kyoutani’s face in droves. Yahaba is _still_ laughing, and Kyoutani jostles him slightly with his shoulder. 

“What’re you laughing at, you weirdo,” Kyoutani grumbles. “Don’t tell me you’re still nervous or something.” 

This only manages to make Yahaba laugh even more, a lovely blush staining his cheeks. Kyoutani’s heart stutters, then comes to a fucking standstill in his chest. How the _fuck_ is this little prick so adorable? 

As his chuckles die away, Yahaba squeezes Kyoutani’s hand. “‘M not nervous,” he says, with a grin like a secret. “Just— _really_ happy.”

Kyoutani stops short, yanking Yahaba to an abrupt stop. Yahaba shoots him a confused look. Before Kyoutani can lose his nerve, he leans forward and presses an awkward, barely-there kiss to Yahaba’s forehead, right at his part. (Which, _fuck_ , he’s wanted to do that for _so long_.)

When he pulls back, he finds Yahaba watching him with wide eyes, face _entirely_ red. His lips twitch with a fluttering smile that widens until he is absolutely _beaming_. It’s… kind of too much for Kyoutani to handle. 

“C’mon,” Kyoutani grunts, a little too flustered by this entire thing. He starts forward again, but this time it’s Yahaba dragging _him_ back. 

Kyoutani glances at him, concerned, and is about to ask what’s wrong when suddenly Yahaba is _right there_ , leaning in and yanking Kyoutani into a kiss.

Like, an _actual_ kiss. Lips on lips. Hands still clasped together, Yahaba’s other hand grabbing hold of the front of Kyoutani’s practice jersey and twisting. 

And _fuck_. He feels so… _soft_. Lips gentle but insistent as they slide against Kyoutani’s, ridiculously smooth because—fuck, _that’s right_ —this jackass uses fucking chapstick. 

Kyoutani’s entire body is quivering, suddenly shock-full of a relentless energy. He leans into Yahaba, scrunches his eyes closed, and finally just… lets his body react like it’s trying to. Following the somewhat fumbling flow of Yahaba’s lips. Breath stuttering as Yahaba’s mouth parts slightly, then captures Kyoutani’s lips more firmly. Shuddering at the drag of tender skin against tender skin. Chasing after the natural backward ebb of the motion. Rushing to meet Yahaba again, and again, and again. 

He quickly loses sight of anything—loses _thought_ of anything—except Yahaba. His warm breath rushes in puffs against Kyoutani’s face. His stupid-ass mint gum invades everything—the taste on his tongue, the weight nestling into his nose, a ghost of the searing cool glancing against his lips. 

Then, far, _far_ too soon, Yahaba leans away, just out of reach. There’s a far, _far_ too satisfied smile on his face. 

“C’mon,” he says, sounding particularly smug for someone struggling to catch his breath. “Let’s go.”

Kyoutani is still too off balance to do anything but let himself be dragged along, his fingers curling tighter in Yahaba’s grasp as they head back toward the locker room.

They walk through the door, and instantly all that’s left of the team is looking at them. Kyoutani watches with growing horror as his teammates glance down at their hands—still clasped between them—and back up at their pink-tinged faces. 

“Well…” Kunimi says slowly, turning away with a bored shrug. Two of the straggling first years are turning a bright pink, glancing just as incredulously between the two of them as Kindaichi is. Watari actually _groans_ and says, smiling, “It’s about fucking _time_.”

Kyoutani grunts, turning on his heel and stalking to his locker, doing his best to ignore the knowing smirks that follow his back. 

Yahaba is only a few steps behind—their lockers are right next to each other, after all. Kyoutani glances down to see Yahaba trying—and failing—to hide a thrilled smile. 

“This team is full of annoying know it alls,” Kyoutani grunts sourly, yanking his locker open. 

“Ken…” Yahaba says warningly. His smile, however, is inching even wider. 

Kyoutani glares at him. “And the biggest fucking know it all is the captain.”

Yahaba rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well you’re a loud, clueless jerk.” Then, grin popping right back, he elbows Kyoutani and adds, “But that’s why I like you, so I _guess_ I’ll just have to put up with it.” 

“Gro-oss!” Watari calls from the other end of the room. 

Yahaba laughs, flicking his friend off without even looking back, and Kyoutani knows that he is beat. How could he _not_ fall for this prissy, completely irreverent prick?

Kyoutani glares over at Watari, very deliberately gives him the finger as well, then leans forward and brushes a quick kiss against Yahaba’s cheek.

Kunimi sighs. Watari makes a disgusted sound. 

But Yahaba is laughing, and it’s the greatest sound Kyoutani has ever heard in his entire life.

**Author's Note:**

> God, I fucking love kyouhaba. So much. 
> 
> I needed a song to listen to while I wrote this. Mel was like, “I’m sure you’ll find a song quickly.” And literally in the time it took for me to lament that I needed a song to her and for Mel to reply, I had already found it xD Anyways, I listened to Chace’s “[Remember My Name](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vQU9bTUOFcs)” on repeat while writing this.
> 
> Which, by the way. This story just, like, CAME OUT OF NOWHERE. I was literally thinking to myself, “Hmmm, I wanna write something for Raquel’s brithday. What should it be?” And the immediate answer was obviously kyouhaba, and then in _the very next moment_ the _entire_ plot for this little oneshot just splurged itself onto the page. And I wrote the entire fic in one sitting this afternoon. That… doesn’t happen very often.
> 
> Anyways, happy birthday again, Raquel!!! Thanks for being such an awesome friend~~
> 
> And to anyone else who happens to check this out, thanks for reading! Feel free to come scream with me over on [Tumblr](https://konekat.tumblr.com/).


End file.
